Fear, Beauty, Courage, Glory
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: HPDM slash. What Harry and Draco feel and see when they wake up in the Room of Requirement, the morning after. COMPLETE.


**Title: **Fear, Beauty, Courage, Glory

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Warnings: **A bit of angst, but mostly fluff

**Rating: **R

**Wordcount:** 1700

**Summary: **What Harry and Draco feel and see when they wake up together in the Room of Requirement, the morning after.

**Author's Notes: **Another Advent fic, for nursedrarry, who requested _Sleepy H/D, school setting would be nice, Just waking up for the first time and WTFing but too comfy not to do it again. _Happy Advent!

**Fear, Beauty, Courage, Glory**

**Fear**

Draco opened his eyes, blinking hard at the ceiling. It wasn't the ceiling of any room he recognized. It was low, and made of wood, and had rafters, unlike the stone ceiling of the Slytherin common room or any room in the Manor. He frowned and turned his head from side to side.

He was in a _huge, _fluffy white bed, which wasn't like anything he would have owned, either, although at least the curtains around the edges were green. There was a fireplace off to the side, with a low fire burning, enough to allow Draco to feel warm but not overheated. And there was a table off to the side that seemed to exist mostly to hold a heap of clothes.

Draco stared, and licked his lips. Now, in the piled warmth against his back, he could make out the form of another body.

He turned his head, and saw the mop of black hair, and stared. Yes, now he remembered. Challenging Potter to a duel last night, running around and yelling at each other, the spells that Draco had to admit were quicker than he'd remembered, climbing on brooms at one point and zooming around after each other...

And Potter cornering him, and kissing him instead of hexing him as Draco had expected.

Of course, _that _part was easy to account for, now that Draco thought about it. Who could resist him when their blood was up and thundering through their veins? Of course Potter would yield to the excitement of the moment and take Draco to-

To a version of the Room of Hidden Things, that was what this place was. Draco nodded, pleased to have figured it out.

But he didn't move his head much, because he was so _comfortable_. And even as Potter stirred and he knew that he would have to face up to the consequences of their night together, Draco felt some of his fear slip away. No matter what, the war was behind him. He could tell himself that, and most of the time, he would even believe it.

It _had _to be behind him if he had spent the night with Harry Bloody Potter.

**Beauty**

Harry opened his eyes. There was a shadow hovering over his face, and he smiled in wonder. He remembered perfectly well what had happened last night. His only surprise was that Draco had stayed in bed instead of running away.

Harry had enjoyed himself immensely with Draco-a Draco who was warm and willing and pleaded with him when all Harry did was pause for a second to enjoy the sight of him-but there was no denying that Draco was a bit of a coward. And Harry might have enjoyed hunting him down, too.

Then he stretched his limbs under the blankets, and discovered how soft the bed was, how enveloping, how embracing. And he reached up and touched Draco's face, and discovered the beauty was real.

Draco opened his mouth. Harry's name came out, his last name. Harry frowned a little. _That _part was disappointing.

So he reached up, and rolled up, and rolled down, and pinned Draco to the bed, and kissed him again. That increased his beauty, because it stained his pale skin with a flush, and his hands reached up as if he would run them through his hair, but he changed them at the last moment to Harry's instead.

Harry drew back and eyed the dimples inside his elbows, the faded remains of the Dark Mark that were a pale and artistic grey on Draco's forearm, the shining folds of skin behind Draco's knees when he prodded him to lift his legs. Yes, Draco was much different from him, but Harry wouldn't have wanted someone exactly alike, anyway.

He kissed Draco again, and Draco spread his limbs out the way he had last night. Not quite as warm as before, Harry thought, drawing the blankets over Draco as he shivered, but oh, _so _willing.

He nestled them both back into the drowsy heat, seeing the way Draco's mouth fell open as he relaxed. He wasn't afraid of what Harry was going to do to him, that much was clear. Not now. If Harry had his way, he would never be afraid again.

Harry smiled, and kissed him.

**Courage**

Draco trembled as one of Potter's hands landed on his thigh and pushed it casually back. Well, it made sense that Potter could touch his bare skin right away, since neither of them wore any robes.

And it made sense that he was calling him Potter in his head. This hadn't been expected. Draco had to maintain some distance.

Then Potter smiled at him.

And Draco's resistances-dissolved. That was the right word for it. They were made of stone, but Potter's smile was like acid poured on them.

Draco supposed that it also made sense, a kind of sense, that he could call him Harry if he _wanted _to. He reached up with one trembling hand and stroked the nape of Harry's neck. Harry closed his eyes. Draco thought he might have purred if Draco kept doing it.

Draco kept doing it. His hand wandered here and there on the nape of Harry's neck, and Harry reached down and kissed him, again, gentle and warm.

The way Draco had felt when he first awakened came back to him. Surely he had the courage to pursue that warmth, that pleasure. Malfoys always had the best of everything. This was the best any bed in the castle had to offer at the moment, Draco was certain.

So he arched his neck and let Harry kiss him under the chin, on the throat, and begged with his eyes. He had the courage of his convictions, convictions of pleasure and beauty, but he needed Harry to help him realize them.

Harry growled a bit beneath his breath, and pushed hard with both hands, exposing Draco's arse to his sight. Draco gasped a little at the cold, but Harry arched the blankets over them again and buried them in an expansive white cocoon. In the semi-darkness, his eyes shone like the fire.

"I've been waiting for this," he whispered.

Draco might have asked how long he had been waiting for this, when they had just done it last night for the first time, but he had more important things to worry about. Like Harry's fingers, probing delicately at his arse. And Harry's tongue, in places that Draco had never imagined it. Well, imagined _a _tongue, maybe. Just not Harry's.

Draco made incoherent noises at the ceiling, or where he assumed the ceiling was beyond the bounds of the blankets, and then Harry took his fingers and his tongue away and murmured, "Ready?"

Harry had done what Draco hoped he would, and helped him find his courage. He felt he could open his arms, and dare Harry to do his worst. Harry chuckled softly at him, and slid in, eyes half-closed, rejoicing, from his panting breath.

It still hurt a bit, especially after last night, but Draco could watch the fire flickering in Harry's eyes when he opened them, and that burned up the pain. He arched his neck for a kiss, and Harry gave it to him.

Gave it to him again, and again, after that, with thrusts that drove every thought of cowardice into the dark.

**Glory**

Harry rode the motions of Draco's thrashing, of his writhing, and never took his eyes from Draco's beatific face.

God, he would have done this _ages _ago, if he had known what Draco looked like in the middle of passion.

But he hadn't known, and he was content that it had taken him until last night to discover it. It meant that he could bear down more firmly with his knees, and thrust faster, and enjoy this when he was of the right age to discover it.

Draco flushed with pleasure, and reached up at one point to entwine his hands with Harry's. Harry took his own fingers off Draco's hips with a bit of reluctance; he had been using them to hold Draco in place while he thrust, and thought that they might slide all over the bed now. But he couldn't refuse that unspoken request.

Draco, though, went on smiling blindingly at him, and Harry felt his heart lift and soar. And perhaps some of that strength went down to his hips, because he managed to keep Draco in place with the weight of his body alone.

Draco gasped as he went over the edge, a sound Harry had heard last night but found that he hadn't committed sufficiently to memory to keep from being surprised by it now. Then he decided that he could hear it for the rest of his life, and never get rid of the desire to hear it again.

His own pleasure was overwhelming, burning, and too fleeting. As Harry collapsed onto Draco, though, he smiled. That just meant that they had an excellent excuse for doing it again and again, until they got to the point where they were sated.

_I don't think that point will come._

Draco turned his head to look Harry in the eye. Harry kissed him. There was no other possible response to the glory in his face. Maybe thousands of other people had had sex like this, but this was _theirs, _and that made it special.

"Stay with me," Draco said drowsily, and fell asleep like that, tucked under blankets, with Harry carefully easing out of him and casting a few cleaning charms, and one that he hoped would help Draco's aches and pains.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's torso, and closed his eyes. Draco wasn't awake to hear the answer right now, but later he would be, and Harry would give it.

_Always._

They drifted off to sleep in measured breathing and perfect comfort.

**The End.**


End file.
